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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740554">Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrionsonoftywin/pseuds/tyrionsonoftywin'>tyrionsonoftywin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Turning Points [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Scrubs (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Holding Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, They talk about Feelings (sort of)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:21:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrionsonoftywin/pseuds/tyrionsonoftywin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh.” Jordan looks at me smirking. “Are you two friends, now?” </p><p>“I suppose we are.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Turning Points [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The previous work was meant to be a One-Shot. But I hate to end things bitter so... I turned it into a series. Let me know what you think! More soon, I promise.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few months pass before I see him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s appendix was operated and then he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanked </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, the day the kid was discharged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I see him, in some street, he vaguely waves at me while he’s holding Sam’s hand. Then, in the crowd, I lose sight of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy!” Jenny dodges me, and I sigh. “Wait a second here, princess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m ridiculous. What am I chasing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure more than a wave, after what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing happened, tho. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was it only in my head? His head on my shoulder, his voice asking me what we were doing, he relaxing under my touch?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if he’s not even here? What if I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>losing my mind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when I’m turning to go, a hand rests on my shoulder and I know it’s JD even before I look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi!” He’s cheerful, happy to see me, it seems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Perry.” Sam gives me a big smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Sammy. Is your tummy alright?” His smile grows and he exclaims: "yes!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy to hear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks at Jenny, suddenly interested. “You know, your daddy saved my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seems excited. “He’s the best. A superhero.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My daddy says that too!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD clears his throat. His cheeks colour with bright red. He used to do that a lot. Flushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And calling me a superhero. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When we worked together. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some things never change, I guess. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, Sam.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid doesn’t seem to understand, but it only lasts for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to go to the park with us, Jenny?” Sam says, and I see JD tensing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, can we go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him, in his eyes. He gives me a half-smile. I’m not sure what it means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. If Sam’s daddy is okay with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallow, he does too. “I can’t see why not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We sit on a bench next to each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” He starts. “How are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’m fine.” I can’t bear eye contact. “How are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wonder if he’s thinking the same as me. About that evening. About us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JD, I…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam and Jenny run towards us, laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, did you know Jenny has the same name as you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems puzzled at first, then he chuckles. “Of course I know. I actually chose that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so cool!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at our children, I feel a weight on my chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s late, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his words echo in my brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you actually used it. The nickname.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God, please no. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I use it at school. But Daddy likes it. He calls me that all the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he?” He can’t help but smile. I noticed he was trying not to. I don’t see why. His smile is one of my favourite things about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My daughter smiles too and I have to close my eyes for a moment here to not see their eyes wrinkling in the same way as they do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the kids are back to play, he doesn’t ask me what I was going to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam folds his arms when he’s angry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That… </span>
  </em>
  <span>that makes me sigh. Did he see me earlier? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he watched it on TV and made a habit out of it.” He goes on. “Elliot always looks at me when he does it. I don’t know why, but she seems disappointed, after. Every time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stay silent. I open my mouth, but he stops me. “I can’t help it. I can’t… fake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want to say that he doesn’t have to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I think I understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are we saying that we love each other like this? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” I remember that this is not his city, anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems surprised by the change of the subject, but shrugs. “I had Sam for the weekend. Thought I could pay Turk a visit, but he’s working. So…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does have another kid. With Barbie. I wonder where they are. But I don’t ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves his hand. He puts it on mine. I let him do it, I let him intertwine our fingers. I let his thumb stroke my wrist. He’s warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that wasn’t a dream.” He whispers at some point. “That night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> I scoff. “You thought that was a dream?” He chuckles. “More or less.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are we doing, Perry? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He told me that night, and I still don’t have an answer. Neither he seems to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumb is keeping stroking my hand, with such delicacy and softness that I don’t know if someone else has ever held my hand in my life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stop looking at Jenny and my gaze falls on him, only to notice he was looking at me already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Our eyes lock; he squeezes my hand and then slowly shakes his head. “It’s not worth it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” I know he’s being wise. I know he’s doing this to spare our kids other fights, splits up, situations they maybe will not understand. I also know he cares about his wife. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so he’s hurting himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And me, by extension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s one of the reasons I love him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t replying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are worth everything.” The words come out as I look in his eyes, and I stare at him for a moment with my mouth still open, not believing what I just said but not regretting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t expecting it and for a second he’s hopeful, he trusts me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the second pass, and he just nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God.” He sighs. “You too. But… we are not the only ones involved. There are... other people and we can't be selfish.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” His eyes drop on my lips as I say so. “Just thought I should have made it clear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat and lets go of my hand. Without him, it’s cold even if we’re in mid-summer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we are back home, Jordan is surprised Jenny actually enjoyed an afternoon with me, while she was home with Jack, who got the flu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met Dad’s friend!” My daughter says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her surprise grows more. “Dad’s friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy’s dad! Big JD!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Jordan looks at me smirking. “Are you two friends, now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose we are.”</span>
</p>
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